Not Even Death
by Bibliotheque
Summary: Because if Hayate's stubborness or Genma's awkwardness or the fact that either of them could be dead the very next day couldn't drive them apart, nothing could. Not even death. GenHaya.


_It hurts, but he's used to pain. It's dark, but he's used to the darkness, even kind of likes it. He's certainly not afraid of it, or of the pain, or anything, really._

_Although, if someone he trusted--and that was a surprising number, really--asks, he might admit that he is a bit worried about the way everything seems to be going kind of cold and fuzzy around the edges. Like reality's getting bad reception, or something._

_He is vaguely aware of something cold and hard underneath him, but that sensation is drowned out by the strangest feeling of drowning, even though he's nowhere near water. It would be easier to think if he could breathe right, but there's some sort of weight pressing down on his chest and it's all he can do to pull in air in shallow gasps. Breathing is painful, but he's used to that and used to pain. So that, at least, isn't anything special._

_He tries to sit up, or at least prop himself up on his elbows. Pain tears through him and he distantly realizes, as white spots burst in front of his eyes, that something is very, very wrong. Managing to crack open one eye--and even that small action takes an insane amount of effort--he tilts his head up and looks down at himself and sees..._

_Blood all over his tattered vest, blood all over the ground, blood leaking from the gash across his torso as his own heart pumps his life out..._

_A startled cry starts low in his chest and works its way up, but by the time it actually gets out it's a choked whimper accompanied by a gout of thick, sticky blood. His head thumps back against the ground, but he doesn't feel it. He doesn't feel anything, not anymore.

* * *

_

For one terrifying moment, darkness surrounds and envelopes him. It crushes his limbs and restricts his breath and slows his heartbeat, and the nightmare is _real_...

And then Shiranui Genma opens his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. Everything's fine. He's in his house, in his bed, and everything is fine. No one's dying, _he's_ not dying, and everything is...fine. Just...fine. Sighing, Genma turns and looks out the window.

A landscape of tiled rooftops stretches out to the horizon, framed against a tall mountain and interrupted here and there by the occasional tower. The not-quite light illuminates everything softly, while birds chirp and twitter cheerily.

Harsh caws split the tranquil air, and Genma blinks. Crows...? He searches the scene in front of him and, sure enough, there's a murder of crows all flying around Kikyou's Castle. Interesting...

"Something must have died," he murmurs, shrugging. Some kids were probably using an animal as target practice or something. Whatever.

A sudden obnoxious buzzing interrupted his thoughts, and he glared at the alarm clock. Damn it all, he was still tired! But it was time to get up, and there was no use sleeping in, since...

"Genma! Get your lazy ass out of bed already!"

Ah, yes. Raidou, the human alarm-clock. Genma was convinced the man never slept. _How else, _he always wonders, _could he possibly always wake up before me?_

"I'm up!" he yells. "Go away and let me get dressed!" Grumbling to himself, Genma pulls his clothes on. Really, there's nothing much for him to do today. Just a few hours in the mission room, and then...

Ah, yes. And then he was going to spend the rest of the day extracting the details of the chuunin exam from Hayate. It has been a long time since they've been able to talk for very long, what with missions and all.

Genma walks through the streets whistling. As he passes Kikyou Castle, a sudden sense of foreboding makes him stop and look up. Is there someone above him...?

No. Just a crow, holding something shiny and metallic in its beak. The bird drops it just as Genma looks up, and it bounces off his forehead. Cursing, Genma throws a rock at the crow and then picks up the object. It's a ring, thin and silver and engraved. Tracing his finger over the raised characters, the honey-blonde man recieves a nasty shock.

'Not even death', it says, which is...

* * *

_"What's this?"_

_"...It's a ring."_

_"I know _that_! Why?"_

_"Because I felt like it. And I love you, you moron."_

_"Ah. Hey, what's it say? Not even death...What?"_

_"Well, ahha, you know how they have that marriage vow that says "'Til death do us part"? Well, um, y'know, since I won't stop, um, y'know, even if you were..." He's never been good at these sorts of things, but the other man understands._

_"Genma, that's _sweet._ Very unlike you, but sweet."_

_He scowls. "Oh, shut up. It's just...whatever. It's just a thing I felt like doing."

* * *

_

It's identical to the ring he wears on a chain around his neck, along with his dogtags. And it's one of two rings he had made, the other of which--the one he is holding--he had given to Hayate. What is a bird doing with it?

Genma stares up at the building again, squinting as if it'll tell him something. Finally, he shakes his head and pockets the ring. Hayate probably dropped it on one of his little midnight strolls or something. He'll be glad to have it back.

Afetr a few minutes, Genma realizes that his hand is still in his pocket and the ring is still in his hand. He's rubbing his fingers over the characters, and finally he repeats the words aloud. "Not even death." It's an unnecessary gesture, of course, because even though he's sick, Hayate is definitely going to outlive Genma. He's just too stubborn to die.

Genma glances back at the building and the crows, and tells himself that. Even though, he can't shake that sense of foreboding.

* * *

Several hours later, in a small meeting room, seated on cushions amongst the rest of Konoha's jounin, he finds out why. And again he clutches the ring in his pocket, mouthing the words to himself, but they are a meaningless comfort. Just like giving Hayate the ring had been. Just like loving him had been. Meaningless, like so many other things in his life, but comforting nonetheless.

They were comforting words, no doubt because of the sentiment attached to them. And, anyway, if Hayate's stubborness or Genma's awkwardness or the fact that either one of them could be dead the very next day couldn't drive them apart, nothing could.

Not even death.


End file.
